Posted 7:00 AM by Gerald So
July is Disability Pride Month and I decided I couldn't let it pass without a post. This is my particular view of my own disability, cerebral palsy, which I've had since I was hours old and stopped breathing.
Having no memory of the time before, my disability feels "normal" to me. As a person attentive to words, "disabled" is how I describe myself for expedience, not how I think of myself. Maybe this is denial, but if I thought I were disadvantaged, I'd be less motivated to see what I could do.
I've found I can do most of what I want, not as quickly or smoothly as someone else, but that hasn't kept me from doing it with time, the same as anyone needing to prioritize.
I read a stat today that fifteen percent of the world's population is disabled, but I'd say a hundred percent is imperfect. If not physical issues, belief issues threaten to stop us from pursuing and reaching our potential. Our individual imperfection should make us willing to work together toward what we can't imagine or achieve alone.
Sunday, July 27, 2025
Friday, July 25, 2025
Now You See It
Posted 5:30 AM by Gerald So
As I've learned digital art the past few months, I've looked into things like pleasant color combinations and optimal fonts, sizes, and colors for blogs. As a first step, I've changed and enlarged the font here. Next I'll choose a background color to complement my cartoon head.
As I've learned digital art the past few months, I've looked into things like pleasant color combinations and optimal fonts, sizes, and colors for blogs. As a first step, I've changed and enlarged the font here. Next I'll choose a background color to complement my cartoon head.
Tuesday, July 15, 2025
It's Not Easy
Posted 3:30 PM by Gerald So
I titled this post after Five For Fighting's 2001 song about Superman because it has to do with my best college friendships, and in college I identified with Superman. I had romantic feelings for one of said friends, and their going unrequited threatened our friendship and my equilibrium. I could only handle it, I imagined, if I were Superman. My disappointment still spilled out at times, but less than it would have without my super thought experiment.
Fast forward thirty years, for about half of which the same college friends have dreamed of a destination reunion. It's finally happening next month, a long weekend in St. Paul, Minnesota, only I'm not going. My friends are all married, most with kids. I'm single, no kids. I'm also disabled. Can't drive well enough to pass a road test. We became friends in part because they drove me, enabling me to join in any group fun I could ask.
For the reunion, too, a friend offered to book flights together and arranged airport rides. I think this longstanding dynamic blinds them to realities of my disability always apparent to me. For one, getting ready each day. At home I do it in private. At a rental house with a handful of roommates? Not entirely possible. They are my friends because they accept everything about me, but I'm still self-conscious. It wouldn't be an issue if we had hotel rooms, but the house is the point of this trip.
I paid my share of the rent shortly after my mother's death. I thought a getaway would be good for me by the time it rolled around, but I find I'm still concerned I'd bring down the mood. So I passed, but that was far from the end of it.
While it's true we haven't all gotten together in persion in many years, we chat and email and video call regularly. I count all these because I never know if I can make events or trips. A lot of things to line up. That's true for everyone, but it might seem so in my case. I've freelanced from home with my mom's and brother's support since well before the pandemic and the past three years caring for Mom after her bouts of pneumonia. In calmer times, it looks as if I can rearrange my schedule to do anything.
My friends are used to including me, convincing me, in effect overlooking my self-consciousness. Others might empathize, knowing it doesn't mean I'm retreating from friendships; it means I'm cool with what friends want to keep to themselves.
I titled this post after Five For Fighting's 2001 song about Superman because it has to do with my best college friendships, and in college I identified with Superman. I had romantic feelings for one of said friends, and their going unrequited threatened our friendship and my equilibrium. I could only handle it, I imagined, if I were Superman. My disappointment still spilled out at times, but less than it would have without my super thought experiment.
Fast forward thirty years, for about half of which the same college friends have dreamed of a destination reunion. It's finally happening next month, a long weekend in St. Paul, Minnesota, only I'm not going. My friends are all married, most with kids. I'm single, no kids. I'm also disabled. Can't drive well enough to pass a road test. We became friends in part because they drove me, enabling me to join in any group fun I could ask.
For the reunion, too, a friend offered to book flights together and arranged airport rides. I think this longstanding dynamic blinds them to realities of my disability always apparent to me. For one, getting ready each day. At home I do it in private. At a rental house with a handful of roommates? Not entirely possible. They are my friends because they accept everything about me, but I'm still self-conscious. It wouldn't be an issue if we had hotel rooms, but the house is the point of this trip.
I paid my share of the rent shortly after my mother's death. I thought a getaway would be good for me by the time it rolled around, but I find I'm still concerned I'd bring down the mood. So I passed, but that was far from the end of it.
While it's true we haven't all gotten together in persion in many years, we chat and email and video call regularly. I count all these because I never know if I can make events or trips. A lot of things to line up. That's true for everyone, but it might seem so in my case. I've freelanced from home with my mom's and brother's support since well before the pandemic and the past three years caring for Mom after her bouts of pneumonia. In calmer times, it looks as if I can rearrange my schedule to do anything.
My friends are used to including me, convincing me, in effect overlooking my self-consciousness. Others might empathize, knowing it doesn't mean I'm retreating from friendships; it means I'm cool with what friends want to keep to themselves.
Tuesday, July 08, 2025
Max Weekend
Posted 7:00 AM by Gerald So
Thanks to a sale at GOG.com, I spent the second half of the holiday weekend playing the 1990 spy computer game SID MEIER'S COVERT ACTION. I recall finishing the game years ago, but I had to relearn three of the four mini-games.
If you're too young to remember the game, a recap: You play Bondian CIA freelancer Maximillian/Maxine Remington, foiling plots by arresting or turning co-conspirators and retrieving key items (blueprints, alarm bypasses, etc.). Your ability to arrest and turn depends on gathering evidence by wiretapping, decoding messages, infiltrating hideouts, and/or trailing suspects by car.
Sid Meier criticized the mini-games in retrospect as being too disparate and distracting from each other. I originally finished just by breaking into hideouts, photoing evidence and snatching suspects in the process, not caring whether I turned them (for double points) or if masterminds went into hiding. Still the mini-games' variety is fun. Breaking cases the way I did as a teen got me promoted to top agent, but the best winning condition is to arrest all twenty-six masterminds. I like that the rival organizations are real: KGB, Mossad, Revolutionary Guards, Colombian Cartel, etc. Only working for the President hasn't aged well, in my opinion.
"Here's a commendation from the President."
Keep it.
Thanks to a sale at GOG.com, I spent the second half of the holiday weekend playing the 1990 spy computer game SID MEIER'S COVERT ACTION. I recall finishing the game years ago, but I had to relearn three of the four mini-games.
If you're too young to remember the game, a recap: You play Bondian CIA freelancer Maximillian/Maxine Remington, foiling plots by arresting or turning co-conspirators and retrieving key items (blueprints, alarm bypasses, etc.). Your ability to arrest and turn depends on gathering evidence by wiretapping, decoding messages, infiltrating hideouts, and/or trailing suspects by car.
Sid Meier criticized the mini-games in retrospect as being too disparate and distracting from each other. I originally finished just by breaking into hideouts, photoing evidence and snatching suspects in the process, not caring whether I turned them (for double points) or if masterminds went into hiding. Still the mini-games' variety is fun. Breaking cases the way I did as a teen got me promoted to top agent, but the best winning condition is to arrest all twenty-six masterminds. I like that the rival organizations are real: KGB, Mossad, Revolutionary Guards, Colombian Cartel, etc. Only working for the President hasn't aged well, in my opinion.
"Here's a commendation from the President."
Keep it.
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